


The Gift of the Blue Dragon

by CameraLux (TinCanTelephone)



Series: Under the Surface [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: (because this is Zuko's family we're talking about), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Firebending & Firebenders, Post-Canon, mid-redemption Azula, not comic compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:15:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27688805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinCanTelephone/pseuds/CameraLux
Summary: Zuko is the firelord, and he thinks he's doing alright. But being a father? That's a whole 'nother story...Or, the story of Zuko, Izumi, and firebending.
Relationships: Azula & Izumi (Avatar), Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Izumi & Zuko (Avatar), Mai/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Under the Surface [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024831
Comments: 17
Kudos: 125





	The Gift of the Blue Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, I find the idea that Izumi is a non-bender really interesting. However, allow me to present another reason she rarely firebends in public ;) 
> 
> Also if you’d like to know my reasoning behind my decision to make this hardcore maiko even though that ship really isn't at the center of this story, refer to [this tumblr post](https://cats-and-metersticks.tumblr.com/post/622232927648038912/me-considers-making-zukos-wife-ambiguous-in)
> 
> This is technically in the same 'verse as my fic "Innocent," but they can definitely stand alone. A Kataang fic for this series is also in the works, to round out all my favorite pairings ;)

Like Zuko, Izumi wakes up at the crack of dawn every day. She’s been doing it since before her fourth birthday, and since a second temper tantrum and a stern warning from the Firelord never to deny her time with her father if at all possible, she is allowed to toddle from her nursery through her parents’ bedroom to the eastward facing balcony where Zuko meditates every morning. At first, she just sits on his lap and watches the sun rise with wide, golden eyes, but then she starts to imitate him, sitting cross-legged on his right and breathing deeply just like he does. 

The fire sages love it, of course, all eagerly awaiting the day she produces her first flame, but Zuko couldn’t really care less about that, he just loves spending time with her. It’s his favorite part of the day– practically the only time he ever has a truly peaceful moment, and uninterrupted time with his daughter. But today is particularly special. It’s his first morning back from a three-month-long diplomatic tour of all the other nations– the longest he’s been away since she was born and even though he always has an eastward-facing window when he travels, meditating to the sunrise just isn’t the same without her. 

It’s strange to see a four-year-old meditate, given what Zuko remembers from seeing Bumi at four, but Izumi is very good at it. Because she hasn’t seen him in a while, today she sits down on his lap like she used to, before moving to sit next to him and copy his lotus pose just as the meditation period ends. 

“Daddy, guess what?” she says as Zuko kneels to thank Agni one more time. 

“What?” Glancing down at her, he can’t help but smile and pull her back onto his lap. _Spirits_ he missed her so much. 

“We saw a firebender in lessons last week.”

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” she says, bouncing up and down a little and beaming in excitement. “Meruki and Soru were there and Soru’s cousin Umaze came to visit and Master Jisoo said would she like to do a bending demonstration.” 

“And did she?” Zuko says fondly, although he can see where this story is going. 

“Yes!” Izumi bounces again and claps her hands together. “Master Jisoo said can we all stand back and so we did and Umaze did a _kata_ and made fire from her hands _and_ her feet!” 

“Wow, that sounds exciting,” Zuko says. 

Izumi goes on, “Meruki says there has never been a firebender in her family before but Soru says there are lots of them in his and he’s going to be a firebender when he grows up, too.” 

Zuko nods. Meruki and Soru figure frequently in Izumi’s stories but Umaze is new. He thinks back and vaguely recalls Soru’s mother, his Minister of Agriculture, mentioning she had family due to return from the United Republic. 

“Daddy, will I be a firebender when I grow up?”

He hesitates, and thinks about the fire sages’ excitement on the day she was born, and the way she already rises with the sun, but then he thinks better of it. (He thinks about himself, and the unbelievable pressure on him to produce a flame that was there as long as he can remember.) 

“I don’t know,” he says. “If you aren’t, it doesn’t matter. There are many other things you can be besides a firebender.” He tries to change the subject. “But I’m glad you enjoyed the bending demonstration.”

“I did!” Izumi says, the eager smile returning to her face. “I said Umaze was the best firebender _ever_ , but Soru didn’t think so.”

“He didn’t?”

“No, he said _you_ were the best firebender ever!” She leans back and points at him, eyes wide with admiration. 

Zuko coughs and tries hard to keep a straight face. “That’s very kind of him to say.”

“But _I’ve_ never seen you firebend,” she says. 

He stiffens, his lighthearted mood suddenly falling. That isn’t strictly true– he’s done little, subtle things in front of Izumi, like re-heating her food or putting out candles, but he’s never produced a flame while she could see. 

The fire sages disapprove, of course, but in Zuko’s experience the fire sages disapprove of most of his parenting decisions. In the last four years, it’s become more than just a habit– he’d compare it to an instinct, something deep in his core he felt from the first time he held her. An instinct to _protect_ , and a conviction that he would never, ever, be a reason she is afraid. 

He realizes she’s still waiting for an explanation. “I…”

“ _Are_ you a firebender?” she says, eyes narrow and looking more closely. 

“Yes,” he says, with a breath of relief that he’s been spared _that_ particular conversation, at least for now.

But then she smiles and eagerly claps her hands. “Show me! Show me, Daddy– _please_!” 

It’s the _please_ that gets him, it always does. That and the huge doe-puppy eyes that she’s mastered since she learned to talk. Mai would shake her head and call him a pushover, but he can’t help it. He never can. 

To compromise with himself, he tries to shift her off his lap so he can do this at a safe distance ( _is fire ever really safe?_ ), but she clings onto his arm and wraps both her legs around one of his like a purple pentapus and refuses to be moved. 

“Alright, fine,” he concedes, wrapping his right arm around her and holding out his left, well over an arm’s reach away from her. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to steady himself, thanking Agni that it’s still the early morning, when he feels the most in control. Then he produces a tiny flame, even smaller than Aang’s when they climbed the mountain to meet Ran and Shao, beating like a tiny heart in the palm of his hand. 

“ _Wow_.” Before he can stop her, Izumi leans forward to reach for it, and he grabs onto her waist to stop her, at the same time extinguishing the flame. 

“It’s so pretty,” she says, eyes still fixed on his hand, even though the fire is gone. 

“It is,” he admits, although he has to add, “but it can also be dangerous. Fire is a difficult thing to control.” 

“How did you do it?” she says, looking back up at his face, unconcerned with all his doubt and reservations. 

For a moment, he allows himself to believe her. He’s almost a little nostalgic, for that innocent feeling of wonder he can’t remember ever having for firebending. Swordplay, maybe– he thinks briefly back to the first time Piandao showed him a form using real blades and wonders if perhaps that is a comparable experience. 

“Well,” he says, taking another deep breath, “it really comes from three things combined. The first is from my chi. Do you know what chi is?” 

She shakes her head. 

“Chi is the energy that flows throughout our bodies.” He traces a finger up and down her arms, then over her head and down her back, along the path of Aang’s tattoos. “And firebenders use that energy to access the second thing, their inner flame, which we can feel here, deep inside.” He points to his stomach, his fire chakra. 

Izumi nods and puts her hand on her own belly, mimicking him.

“And the third thing is the sun.” Zuko points up to where it hovers, fully risen, just below the buildings beyond the palace wall. “That’s why I sit here and meditate first thing every morning, so I can draw strength from the heat and light of Agni.”

“Okay.” Izumi nods again and turns her face towards the light. “I want to try.”

Zuko panics. “Now wait just a–”

But the words die on his lips as Izumi takes a deep breath and on her exhale produces a tiny flame in the palm of her chubby hand, dancing and flickering between them. 

“I did it!” she squeals, the flame growing higher in her excitement. “Daddy, I did it!”

“Yes, you did.” He allows the fire to grow a little more before extinguishing it with a gentle hand on hers, stroking her wrist with his thumb in an effort to disguise the shaking. 

She throws her arms around his neck in a clumsy, toddler hug that sometimes feels a little like being strangled, which he returns with as much enthusiasm as he can manage.

At some point, he remembers himself and says, “I’m so proud of you, ’Zumi. So, so proud.” 

Then he finds himself holding on tighter, and blinking tears out of his eyes, although for the life of him he can’t explain why. 

* * *

It’s one of the worst fights he and Mai have had in a while, but in their defense they are both quite tired, and it has been a very tense couple of hours. 

“I can’t believe you’re being so stubborn about this,” Mai snaps from the other side of the room, staring angrily into the mirror and yanking a brush through her hair. “It’s past time– _far_ past time– something should’ve been done and you know it better than anyone.”

“Yes, I do,” he says, from where he’s frantically pacing back and forth, trying to dispel some of his nervous energy with limited success. “And that’s exactly why I don’t want to do anything yet. Today was a fluke, nothing like that will happen again.”

“A fluke!” The hairbrush clatters loudly onto the vanity and Mai whirls to face him. “Our child _lit her hair on fire_ , Zuko! With her own bending! If Rima hadn’t been there who knows what would’ve happened.” She shudders. “And if Rima wasn’t a firebender–” 

“But she is,” Zuko stops her. “And nothing terrible happened.”

“Because we were lucky!” She raises her voice, something she almost never does, and points a sharp fingernail at him. “We are _lucky_ that the most upsetting thing to come of this is an unfortunate haircut. Who knows if we’ll be so lucky again.” 

He does his best not to shrink under her gaze. “Just give it a few more months. Just a little more time and then she’ll be five–” 

“No,” she says firmly. “No more waiting. No more putting it off. We are finding Izumi a Firebending Master.” 

Zuko crumbles and looks away, folding his arms and looking into the corner. He’s quiet for a long time, and eventually Mai sighs and walks around the bed. 

“If it would make you feel better,” she says, her tone considerably softer, “perhaps _you_ can train her. I’m sure we’ll be able to make the time–”

“No,” he says sharply, refocusing on the room and taking an involuntary step away from her, as if he could physically distance himself from the idea. Already he can feel revulsion boil in his stomach. “I can’t– I can barely firebend in front of her, you know that,” he says, as if that can even begin to explain. 

“I know,” Mai sounds nervous, but keeps going. “And I know what you must be thinking of but this will be nothing like that–”

“Exactly,” he cuts her off again, wincing because she hates it when he does that, and it makes him hate himself as well, but he just can’t talk about this. He can’t. “This will be _nothing_ like what I went though. I will never be the one to criticize, correct, or evaluate Izumi’s firebending, even– _especially_ – as her Sifu.” 

“Alright,” Mai relents, briefly dropping her gaze to the carpet. “But the fact remains,” she raises her eyes again, softer, pleading, “she has to learn how to control her bending, and she has to learn now. Before someone gets hurt.”

And Zuko swallows, feeling sick again because the only thought worse than Izumi’s firebending instruction being anything like his is the thought of her getting hurt. And while he was hoping that that first time his balcony would be the beginning of a slow development of her abilities, they have instead progressed at an extraordinary rate, to the point where she’d lost control while fooling around. 

“We’ll get her the best one that can be found,” Mai says softly, “and cross-check every reference, every recommendation.”

“All my masters had references and recommendations,” he says bitterly. 

“And it was Ozai that allowed them to treat you the way they did,” she says firmly. 

Zuko flinches. His father’s name is rarely spoken in his presence, and never in conversations about Izumi. “I still–” he’s shaking, and his eyes feel wet. “I don’t think I can trust anyone. No matter what I say, the old style of teaching was accepted– was practiced by so many…” Except Iroh, and he can’t ask Iroh to abandon his beloved tea shop for the next twelve years. 

“Then sit in on her lessons,” she says, coming up before him and laying gentle hands on his arms. “Not to critique or evaluate, just to observe, and make sure she’s okay.”

“I can’t do that either,” he says, hanging his head in shame. “I don’t think I can watch her be that close to someone else’s fire. And what if– what if she _thinks_ I’m evaluating her, or basing her worth on her progress?” He shakes his head. “No, no I can’t be there. I can’t watch.”

“Then I’ll do it,” Mai says, bringing him gently closer to her, cool palms pressed against his back. “Let’s choose a Master for her together, and then I’ll watch her lessons. I know nothing about firebending, so I can’t judge anyone, but,” she gives him a small smile and slips a throwing star out of the sleeve of her robe, “I’ll make sure _nothing_ happens to her.” 

Zuko leans his chin on her head and holds her tight.

Firebending is all they talk about now, and Zuko kind of hates it. Izumi joins him every morning like clockwork, sitting studiously next to him and meditating like a fire sage in training. He tells her repeatedly that she doesn’t have to if she doesn’t want to, but she insists every time that she does, and eventually he gives up. 

Her lessons are only twice a week (another compromise– Mai had proposed three times, while he had wanted one), but even on off days he catches her practicing katas in the gardens or her playroom. 

“Why are you practicing today?” he says, unable to tear himself away even though he’s horribly late for a meeting with his Minister of Education. “Is Sifu Kazo pushing you too hard? Are you afraid you need to catch up?”

“Nope.” Izumi shrugs and drops her stance, wandering over to her toy chest. “I just practice for fun sometimes.” 

_For fun_. It makes no sense, but Zuko doesn’t have time to dwell on it in the moment. 

That evening, the dinner table conversation is firebending, again. Izumi rattles off all the new forms she learned the day before, and everything Sifu Kazo promised to teach her tomorrow. 

Zuko stabs his komodo chicken especially hard. “‘Zumi, how about taking a break from training tomorrow? You and I can go explore the underground tunnels instead.” There are definitely meetings that will conflict with that, but it doesn’t matter. He’ll cancel them all. 

She frowns. “But I don’t want to miss firebending training.” 

“Zuko.” Mai gives him a warning look across the table, and he backs off. 

“Sorry,” he says. “You’re right. We can go explore the tunnels after training.” Now that he’s decided he’s willing to fuck up his schedule for the next six weeks, he might as well do it. 

Izumi beams, before picking up right where she left off on the ways in which Sifu Kazo has had to change his lesson plan to better challenge her. 

Zuko tries to keep his face and voice neutral if not positive, but he can feel Mai’s eyes on him the entire time. 

She confronts him as soon as they’re alone in their chambers. “Okay, what’s your problem?”

“Problem?” He removes his crown and pulls the string out of his topknot. “I don’t have a problem.”

“Try that again.”

“Seriously, I don’t.” He turns around and climbs into bed, lighting a candle and picking up a random scroll to read. 

“ _Zuko_.” 

The scroll snaps shut. “What?”

Mai’s still standing near her vanity. “You could at least _try_ to be interested in Izumi’s training.”

“I am interested,” he says. “I just think Kazo’s going a little fast. Maybe we should look for someone else–”

“We _both_ agreed on him, if you recall,” she says. “And Izumi adores him. Her training is going as fast as she wants it to.”

“Which is too fast,” he says. “She’s working too hard, it’s a recipe for disaster.”

“She’s five years old and a princess,” Mai says. “Nothing is _work_ to her. It’s just fun.”

_Fun_. There’s that word again. “I still think she should slow down. This can’t be good for her.”

Mai smirks. “Are you jealous she’s learning faster than you did?”

“What? No, not at all!” The edges of the scroll begin to smoke and Zuko curses, tossing it aside. “It just reminds me–” he swallows. “The way she trains, and the way she talks about firebending reminds me of–”

He can’t quite finish the thought, but Mai understands, eyes growing wide. “ _Oh_.”

He groans and presses his face to his hands. “I just– I don’t want her to end up like…”

There’s a rustle of cloth as Mai hurries to his side, sitting her side of the bed and reaching for his shoulder. “She won’t,” she says, fingers pressing firmly to his spine. “Zuko, she won’t. We’ll make sure of it.”

“I _know_ that.” He takes an unsteady breath. “I just need to _believe_ it.”

“You will.” Mai moves closer so she can rub his back. “Don’t worry about it, you will.”

But despite Mai’s assurances, the similarities become harder and harder to ignore. Inevitably, Zuko isn’t the only one who notices. One of the servants points it out first. She’s older, one of the few who were here during his father’s time, and trimming the hedges at the edge of a courtyard where Izumi is practicing. 

Zuko’s watching for once, because Izumi was beginning to think he wasn’t proud of her at all, but from a distance, and right where the gardener, Inga, is supposed to be pruning. 

She’s also unusually bold, and clears her throat to let him know he’s in the way. 

Distracted, he mutters an apology and steps to the side, and she follows his gaze across the yard, where Izumi lands a particularly tricky combo (he would know– he failed to do the same one in front of Azulon himself). She’s grinning madly, cheeks flushed from exertion and excitement, the burst of fire glittering in her eyes. 

“A regular prodigy,” Inga says. 

Zuko stiffens. 

She doesn’t appear to notice, shuffling on to the next bush. “Just like the princess.”

Neither of them have to say which princess she’s talking about. 

The next person to mention it is his mother, which is far worse.

She and Noren haven’t lived in the palace for years, as much as Zuko wanted them to. Noren never got used to the various formalities and prying eyes, and they had eventually settled in a small villa several miles outside the capital city, still close enough to visit on occasion. 

This week, the occasion is Zuko’s birthday. Even Kiyi has been bribed and cajoled away from university in Republic City, and the whole family is at the palace to prepare for the celebration. Izumi is ecstatic, she hasn’t seen Kiyi since she started firebending and it’s all she’s talked about for weeks. 

On a sunny afternoon a few days before the party, Zuko and his mother watch them practice from the edge of the courtyard. Izumi shows off all the latest forms she’s learned in the past months, and then watches as Kiyi shows her a few more. After catching her breath, she copies all of them almost perfectly. 

Zuko bites the inside of his mouth and hopes his mother won’t say anything. 

Of course, it’s too much to hope. 

“She’s very talented,” Ursa says mildly, like she’s commenting on the weather. “You must be proud.”

“She seems to enjoy it,” he mutters before finding an excuse to hurry away, arriving early for a meeting with the Minister of the Interior for the first time ever.

But it doesn’t save him from dinner that evening. 

Zuko’s already feeling irritable– most of the dinner table discussion surrounds a celebration he thinks is on the wrong side of extravagant and not entirely deserved. What’s so special about turning thirty-three anyway? As far as he can tell, not much besides the fact that some of the older politicians now seem to consider him _barely_ an adult, and that his shoulders will be sore the whole next day if he doesn’t warm up properly before sword training. 

So he isn’t _really_ listening when the conversation shifts and Izumi starts babbling about firebending again, so excitedly that Mai has to tell her not to talk with food in her mouth and even Iroh jumps in to remind her of her indoor voice. 

“–and Master Kazo says I’m one of his bestest students _ever_!” she finishes, barely able to swallow her potsticker. 

“You’re very talented,” Ursa says indulgently. “I watched you practicing today and you looked just like your aunt.”

Zuko freezes with his spoon halfway to his lips. A glance around the table shows that Mai is frozen too, and Uncle has developed a sudden interest in the ceiling. 

Izumi doesn’t seem to register any of that. “You mean Aunt Kiyi?” 

“No, I mean–“

“She means your Aunt Kiyi,” Zuko cuts in as Noren fumbles his chopsticks and Kiyi’s grip on her teacup gets so tight it starts steaming again. He glares, tries to remember that he loves his mother and is grateful to have her back in his life even when she can be so _thoughtless_ sometimes. 

“Oh.” Izumi cocks her head, clearly not sure whether to believe him. “Well, thank you, _Baba_ , Aunt Kiyi’s a really good firebender!”

Ursa smiles awkwardly, one eye still on Zuko, and says something bland in response so the conversation moves onto other things. 

Zuko breathes a sigh of relief and thinks he could just melt into the floor right there. Not for the first time, he wonders if life would be simpler if Izumi were a non-bender. Then it occurs to him that she’d probably be as obsessed with knives as her mother and he physically shudders. 

Iroh looks at him askance. “Are you feeling alright, Nephew?”

“Fine.” He pushes his noodles aside and reaches for the seaweed salad. “Something tastes off about that soup.”

The rest of the meal goes by without incident and foolishly, Zuko assumes he’s in the clear. But as he and Mai tuck Izumi in together that night, she stops them just as they’re about to put out the lamps. 

“Daddy, can I ask a question?”

They pause, and Zuko braces himself. “Of course you can.”

“Is Aunt Kiyi my only aunt?”

Zuko looks over the bed at Mai and tries to imperceptibly shake his head. _Not yet. She isn’t old enough_. 

Mai’s eyebrows push together. _The truth will come out eventually. It‘ll be better coming from us._

He flounders, wishes he could think more rationally about this, and watches as Mai takes a seat on Izumi’s bed. “No, Izumi, Aunt Kiyi isn’t your only aunt.”

“Oh.” Izumi looks between them, eyes wide in confusion although her voice isn’t particularly surprised. “Then who’s my other one? Does she live really far away? Can I meet her at the party?”

Mai glances up at him and he just shrugs hopelessly, allowing her to take the lead. She licks her lips. “She… she won’t be at the party, Sweetie.”

“Oh.” Still, Izumi looks confused. “When can I meet her, then?”

Mai glares at him and Zuko relents, taking a seat on Izumi’s other side. Technically, Izumi has already met her other aunt, before she was old enough to remember. Azula was living in the palace back then, on a trial basis, per the recommendation of the healers they were working with at the time. 

It ended up being a disaster for several reasons. While much more relaxed than she was ten years ago, Azula’s behavior remained somewhat erratic, and she was prone to violent fits of anger and frustration. Zuko wanted to say he tried his best, he really did. But there was only so much he could do when the littlest things seemed to set her off and she would only listen to him or Ty Lee. The staff were of little help– already terrified of her from personal experience or stories heard secondhand of her brief reign of terror in the days before the comet. Many of them flat-out refused to work with her, and Zuko couldn’t bear to force them. 

Trying to juggle his duties as firelord and a newborn as well, he was eventually forced to admit defeat and arranged for her to live in a small group home on the other side of the island. It made him feel like a failure, like he was giving up on her, but Mai convinced him it would be better for everyone. The palace held too many triggers for both of them, and this arrangement was simply more stable. And they both needed stability to heal. 

But he can’t explain all this to Izumi. “You’ll… you’ll meet her someday,” he says. He’s pretty sure that’s a given. His mother would kill him if he kept Azula a secret forever. “But not right now.”

“Why not?”

He sighs and pulls her a little closer, focusing on the warmth of her to steady himself. “Your Aunt Azula– my other sister– she’s… a little sensitive to certain things, so she doesn’t live with us in the palace.”

Izumi’s lower lip pokes out. “She isn’t even coming to the party?”

“No.” Zuko thinks with a pang that it might be nice to have Azula here, so his circle of family and friends would really feel _complete_ , but quickly pushes it away. “She lives a little ways away from us, with some other people like her.”

“Do you ever visit her?”

“Sometimes.” Every couple of months or so, when he can get away and feels mentally prepared. Azula has been better lately, but not enough for her to leave, or take on any responsibility besides the small garden the residents of her home are encouraged to keep. The healers like to say her progress has _plateaued_ , which ‘happens sometimes in cases like this, and is not necessarily a bad sign.’

“Can I come with you next time?”

Zuko’s heart freezes. “No, Izumi, not next time.” He rubs her shoulder in consolation. “Maybe when you’re a little older.”

“How much older?”

“Just older.” At this point, he knows better than to try to bargain with her. He stands up and leans over to give her a good-night kiss. “But we love Azula very much, just like your Aunt Kiyi, even if she can’t be here with us.”

“Okay.” Izumi settles under her blankets and Mai stands up as well. 

“Goodnight, ‘Zumi,” she says. “Sleep tight.”

Zuko turns down the lamps and follows Mai to their bedroom, breathing a sigh of relief as the door closes behind them. He feels Mai’s hand slide over his shoulders, gently rubbing the tension away.

“That was good,” she murmurs. “You did a good job.”

“With what?” He pulls the crown off his head and tosses it carelessly aside, running his hands through his hair.

“Explaining the situation,” she says, coming to sit next to him on the bed. 

“I wish it didn’t have to be a _situation_ ,” he mutters. 

“It’s not your fault that it is,” she says gently. 

“I know.” He lies down in bed facing away from her. “But maybe I should’ve tried harder.”

“We did our best,” she says. “It is what it is.”

He sighs and lets her curl around him, lips pressed against his neck. She always let go of guilt more quickly than he did. He closes his eyes, tries to copy the way she relaxes against him.

* * *

Michi likes to say Izumi looks just like her mother. Tom-Tom shakes his head and says Izumi’s face is too narrow. Mai rolls her eyes every time they have this discussion and says she looks like a perfect mix of them both. 

In the interest of solidarity, Zuko agrees with her, even though, face shape aside, he privately thinks Izumi looks more like Mai. Or maybe he just hopes that’s the case. It’s too soon to really tell, anyway. Who knows what a ten-year-old will look like in another ten years? 

He leans back in his seat and sips his tea while Michi, Tom-Tom, and Mai continue to bicker. Perhaps he’s just disgruntled because he doesn’t see much of himself in Izumi these days, personality-wise. 

Pro-bending has finally reached the Fire Nation and Izumi is obsessed. Last time his friends were in town, Toph had pressured him into holding a promotional match in what used to be the Agni Kai arena but was now mostly used as a public theater. Bumi and Izumi had been almost giddy with excitement, running circles around the adults for the entire long weekend. 

When someone (probably Toph) revealed that their parents used to spar together all the time, no silence could be had until they agreed to a demonstration. 

“I hardly _ever_ get to see other types of bending!” Izumi had said. “Won’t it be good for my education?”

“She’s absolutely right,” Toph said, already pulling on her metal cuffs. “Come on, Firelord Grumpy Pants, it’s for their _education_.”

Katara sighed. “Toph, you just had a baby, are you sure–“

“Exactly.” She stood up. “I need to get back into shape. And because I’m not exactly in top form right now, you losers might actually have a chance.” She earthbended herself into the center of the empty arena, landing in a dramatic tuck-and-roll to the cheers of Bumi and Izumi. 

Katara groaned and tied back her hair, handing Tenzin off to Aang. “Fine, but just one round.”

Reluctantly, Zuko followed her into the ring, casting a hopeless glance back at Mai, who was trying to keep Kya from toddling after her brother as he and Izumi charged around the empty arena trying to find the best place to sit. 

“This doesn’t even make any sense!” He called back to the spectators in a last-ditch attempt to get out of this charade. “We only make one pro-bending team.”

Sokka shot Bumi a grin that meant trouble and shifted Lin to one arm, holding up an imaginary microphone in the other. “In a tragic turn of events, the Half-Blind Bandits–“

Toph whooped.

“–have turned on each other and are now sparring to the de– err… to the knockout! Last man–“

Katara glared. 

“ _–or woman–_ standing wins the ultimate prize, which is…” he turned to Bumi.

“Ten million-bajillion yuans!” Bumi yelled. 

“Ten million-bajillion yuans!” Sokka said. “ _And_ there’ll be chocolate cake for dessert!”

Bumi and Izumi gasped and began jumping up and down, screeching incoherently. 

Zuko tried not to actually facepalm and swore to make Sokka take responsibility for the last-minute change to the dinner menu. 

“Take your stances!”

Zuko took one look at Toph’s feral grin and gave in to fate.

As sparring matches went, it wasn’t the longest they’d ever had, but to be honest they were all somewhat out of practice. He held his own against the girls for longer than he thought he would, but eventually took a hit from Toph that sent him stumbling into the drink. After Mai fished him out, he watched Katara, who he felt like had been holding back a bit, unleash everything she had on Toph.

After a tense battle that ended with both women covered in mud and Toph barely sliding into the water before Katara, Sokka called the match in favor of his sister to Bumi’s uproarious cheers. 

Zuko looked almost nervously towards Izumi, hoping she wouldn’t be too disappointed he’d been knocked out first, but she just patted his shoulder seriously and said, “She got in a lucky hit. You’ll get ‘em next time.”

Of course, there is unlikely to be a next time anytime soon. Katara, Aang, Toph, and Sokka have returned to Republic City, so Izumi has to content herself with radio broadcasts and matches with her friends in which two thirds of them pretend they’re bending earth and water instead of fire. 

After excusing himself from tea with his in-laws, Zuko takes a detour past the training room and hears voices. A little curious, he slips in the door and hovers at the edge of the room, watching Izumi spar with her friend Soru.

Even though she’s firebending, it’s occasions like this that she reminds him the most of Mai. She delivers blows with the same precision of Mai’s shuriken, gracefully dodging and blocking all of Soru’s attacks. 

A couple times, Zuko catches her using a technique Azula favored, firing with two fingers instead of a whole fist to make her attacks more focused and powerful. 

After not too long, the match ends with Soru on the ground and Izumi standing over him, holding an exaggerated threatening expression on her face for all of five seconds until they both start laughing and she helps him up. 

If they’re surprised to see him watching, they hide it well, and Soru bows low before hurrying away. Izumi hangs around, cheeks flushed and looking proud of herself. 

“Impressive,” Zuko says. He’s been trying to comment more on her firebending, to show his support for her interests and _not_ to evaluate her skill in any way. 

“Thanks.” She grins and leans around him to make sure Soru’s out of earshot. “Fighting Soru’s easy. I actually have to hold back so it’s not boring.”

“Do you now?”

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “I bet you did too, when you were a kid.”

Zuko struggles not to laugh out loud. “Nothing could be further from the truth.”

“Really?” She thinks he’s joking. 

“Really. Believe it or not, you already know some forms I never mastered.”

“Huh.” She turns this over for a second, clearly in disbelief. 

“Remember the fight you saw with Auntie Katara and Auntie Toph? I got knocked out first.”

She frowns. “Yeah, but they’re like, the best benders in the _world_.”

He nods. “They are, and I am not the best firebender in the world.”

“Well, who _is_ the best firebender in the world? Uncle Iroh?”

Zuko opens his mouth to answer and then closes it again with a _snap_.

“Is it Auntie Azula?”

Another reason she takes after her mother. Too perceptive for her own good.

Zuko hesitates, but quickly decides it’s pointless to lie. (Not to mention Mai would disapprove.) “Yes. At one time, your Auntie Azula was the greatest firebender the world had ever seen.”

“Is she still?”

“…Sometimes.” _On her good days_. 

“But you’re almost as good as she is?” Izumi says, moving to sit on a bench, legs swinging thoughtfully beneath her. 

Zuko takes a seat next to her. “Almost,” he says. “But I had to work a lot harder for a lot longer. People are different like that, Izumi. Different things come naturally to different people. Firebending comes easily to you, and other things won’t. But that doesn’t mean you’ll never be good at them.”

“Like reading?” she says. “Soru and Meruki are much faster at reading than me, and I don’t know why.”

“Just like that,” he says. “But with time and practice, you’ll get better at reading just like I got better at firebending.”

“Hm.” She rests her chin on her hands. “Dad, will I ever meet Aunt Azula? You said once I would when I got older. Am I old enough now?”

Zuko bows his head. He knew this day was coming. “Maybe,” he says. “I have to talk to you mother.”

“I hope so,” Izumi says. “People keep saying I firebend like her. I want to know what she’s like.”

“It’s a bad idea,” Zuko says that evening, worrying a hair tie between his hands. “She knows she’s been compared to Azula before, if things go badly she’ll be freaked out.”

Mai leans against the vanity, tapping her fingers on the corner looking thoughtful. “The longer you put it off the more you’ll build it up. Maybe it’s better to get a first meeting out of the way.”

“What if we catch her on a bad day?”

“The healers have said she’s been having fewer of those.”

“ _Fewer_ doesn’t mean _none_.”

She sighs. “It's a risk you’re always going to have to take, unless you want to put this off indefinitely.”

“I know.” The hair tie snaps in Zuko’s hands. “Shit, I know.”

“Maybe it’ll even be good for her,” Mai says slowly. “Azula, I mean. To meet someone like her, in that way.”

“Maybe,” he says, although he sounds about as sure as she does. 

Mai lets out a long breath and comes to sit on the bed. “If you don’t do it she’ll just keep asking.”

“I know.”

She puts a hand over his. “I… I could come with you, if you wanted.”

“No.” He intertwines their fingers. “You don’t have to do that.” 

Zuko isn’t sure what it is, but out of everyone, Azula’s relationship with Mai has remained the worst. Although Ty Lee was the one to disarm her at The Boiling Rock, Zuko suspects Mai’s betrayal was the first thing that really shook Azula to her core. Maybe it isn’t possible for either of them to move past that. 

“Zuko…” she says, “If Izumi wants to meet Azula, we should let her do it, whatever it takes. We don’t want secrets building up in the family, right?”

He sighs. “You’re right. No secrets.” He leans over to kiss her. “But you don’t have to come with us if you don’t want to. I promise I can handle it myself.”

“My hero,” she deadpans, in that way that always makes him laugh. 

“Damn right.” Moving fast, he flips her over so she’s underneath him and nudges her waist with his fingertips until she’s laughing too. 

It’s a long carriage ride to Azula’s group home, almost long enough for Zuko to wonder if it would’ve been worth the hassle of an airship. By Izumi’s fourth “Are we there yet,” he’s seriously considering sending for one to take home, but then they crest the final hill and nerves take the place of irritation. 

He’s been in close correspondence with Azula’s healers for weeks, and all signs point to this being a Good Day, but the stakes are very high, and he can’t ignore the feeling in his gut that this is not going to go as anyone expects. 

The staff have arranged the sitting room of Azula’s suite as a meeting location. It connects directly to her bedroom on one side, but the opposite wall is almost all glass and opens through a sliding door onto a patio with a garden and a view of the ocean. 

Leaving Izumi in the hallway with her guards, Zuko goes in first. The room is nearly the same as the last time he visited– comfortably furnished, if somewhat sparse. 

He bows. “Azula.”

“Zuzu.” She grins from her position on the largest couch facing the door, one arm stretched across the back and to all appearances relaxed. “It’s been a while.”

“Sorry.” He takes a seat on a chair across from her. “I’ve been busy.”

“So have I,” she says, chin lifted in that proud way she always had. “My fire lilies almost failed to bloom this year. But I showed them. They bloomed longer and brighter than anyone else’s.”

“That’s good,” he says, trying to sound sincere. (And he is, but it’s hard to concentrate on that when he’s so damn _nervous_.)

She sees right through him, lips twitching down. “It’s a meaningless task meant to keep me occupied.”

“It’s meant to be enjoyable to you,” he says. “Does it make you happy?”

She frowns, eyes narrow. “It doesn’t make me _un_ happy.” 

“That’s good,” he says again. Oh, Spirits, now he’s repeating himself. 

Azula drops the act, arm coming off the couch to fold her hands in her lap. “Spit it out. Let’s hear the real reason you came all the way out here when it’s neither my birthday nor yours and at this time of year you’re usually deep in preparations for monsoon season.”

“Fine,” he mutters, wondering why he tries. “You– you remember Izumi.”

Of course, she doesn’t look the least bit surprised. “I do.”

“Well, you know she doesn’t remember you, and I– we– both thought it was time that you met her. Officially.”

Azula falls silent for a long minute, although Zuko knows the wheels are turning in her head.

Eventually, her head cocks to the side and she grins. “Zuzu, I’m honored.”

He grits his teeth. “She’s in the hallway now. I can go get her if that’s something you feel up to doing.”

“I’m neither a child nor an invalid,” she says, a hint of sharpness creeping into her tone although the smile remains plastered on her face. “You brought her all this way. Of course I want to meet her.”

Zuko sighs, rubbing sweaty hands on his robe before standing. “Just a minute.”

Azula relaxes against the couch, fixing her hair that hangs loose around her shoulders. 

He cracks the door and beckons Izumi inside. She looks nervous, but before he can ask again if she’s sure she wants to do this, she squares her shoulders and steps through the door under his arm. 

He follows her closely as she walks up to Azula, still seated on the sofa, and bows. “Good afternoon, Aunt Azula. I’m Princess Izumi. It’s very nice to meet you again.”

Azula cocks an eyebrow at Zuko. “Very polite, this one. You’ve trained her well.”

Zuko clamps his teeth down on his tongue to keep from snapping something sarcastic.

“Oh, relax.” She rolls her eyes and addresses Izumi. “Good afternoon, Izumi. You’re a lot bigger than the last time I saw you.”

“Thank you.” Izumi sits primly next to Zuko across from her aunt. 

“It’s remarkable,” Azula says lightly, “how such a little pink squishy thing can become a miniature person in just ten short years.”

Now Zuko has to roll his eyes. 

Izumi doesn’t seem to know what to say, and Azula’s gaze circles the room wandering to the window, to Zuko, back to Izumi. An almost genuine smile creeps across her lips. “But you’ve still got that Spark in your eyes.” 

Izumi doesn’t miss a beat. “I’m a firebender, too,” she says. “Just like you and Dad.”

The smile grows wider. “But more like me, isn’t that right?”

Izumi falls silent again, and Zuko stiffens as Azula stands up and walks over to the window. 

“Come look at these flowers, Izumi.”

Izumi hesitates, and Zuko almost intervenes before she slides off the couch and follows Azula to the window. “They’re really pretty.”

“They’re alright.” Azula sniffs. “See how some of them are taller than others?”

Izumi nods. 

“No one knows why it happens, or how, that’s just nature,” she says. “Some flowers are naturally taller.”

Zuko doesn’t like where this is going. 

“I remember the day you were born,” Azula continues.

“You do?”

She nods. “The fire sages were so excited. Your mom and dad kicked them out of the room after a few hours, but they were talking about you all day.”

“Really?” 

Zuko fights to keep from actively grimacing. He dislikes the fire sages and continues to keep Izumi as far from them as possible, and he has never told her this story. 

Azula nods again. “They said your Spark was the brightest anyone had seen since mine.” She leans forward a little, as if she’s about to reveal a secret. “Possibly even brighter.”

Izumi’s eyes widen, then dart back to Zuko, unsure what to do with this information. 

Zuko stands up. “Maybe that’s enou–“

“It’s not true,” Azula says, the smile falling from her face.

“What’s not true?” To her credit, or perhaps naïveté, Izumi doesn’t look frightened, just confused.

“Your Spark isn’t stronger than mine,” Azula says. 

Izumi’s shaking her head. “I didn’t mean–“

“It’s not your fault,” she continues, before Zuko can decide how to interfere. “It’s Zuzu’s.”

“It’s whose?”

Zuko stops short halfway to the window. 

“Your father’s.” Azula looks over at him. “I can already tell your training has been lax. Or as he would call it, _gentle_.”

Zuko bristles, and reminds himself for the millionth time that he has to stay calm. If he stays calm, then there’s a better chance that everyone will stay calm.

Azula turns her shoulders to face him. “Don’t make her soft, Zuko. That’s no way to prepare her to lead the free world.” 

“Treating her the way a child deserves to be treated is not making her _soft_ ,” he says. 

She tosses her head. “Oh, please. Ten years old and this child has never had a real fright in her life. Can anyone say she’s truly been tested? How good are her instincts when her life depends on it?”

“Azula…” He takes another step forward. 

“Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about it, too,” she says. “That maybe our father had some things right. You have no idea how to train a firebender of her caliber– abilities you could only begin to imagine.”

“I’m not training her,” he says. 

“Of course you’re not.” She scoffs. “Coward.”

Izumi stomps her foot. “My dad’s not a coward!”

Zuko remembers why they’re here and tries valiantly to regain control. “I’m sorry, Sweetie,” he says. “Aunt Azula didn’t mean it.”

Azula barks a derisive laugh. “Don’t lie to her. Of course I mean it.” She turns back to Izumi. “You’re old enough to understand– the world isn’t always going to be as nice to you as it is right now. The _perfect princess_ bit only works for so long, eventually you’ll learn you have to prove your worth. If your father knew better he’d show you already.”

Izumi’s eyes are wide, and she takes a step back as Azula’s voice gets louder. 

“Luckily, I _do_ know better.” Without warning, Azula’s right hand comes free of her sleeve and she bends a swath of blue fire at Izumi. 

Zuko’s heart almost stops and his hands are raised to strike before he realizes the fire never touched Izumi. She deflected it reflexively, without even taking a step back. 

Azula’s wild grin is back. “Hmm. Maybe there’s hope for her yet.”

Zuko unfreezes and pulls Izumi away from her, patting down the length of her body looking for burns, and upon finding none, ushering her out of the room. 

“What were you thinking?” he shouts as soon as they’re alone again. “Firebending at my child like that?”

Azula raises her chin. “I never would’ve _actually_ hurt her.”

“You couldn’t have known she’d deflect it!”

“Sure I could,” she shoots back. “But even if I hadn’t, she was never in any danger– look.” She points at the ground, where a charred line has been singed in the carpet. “Too low to do anything but warm her feet.”

“Still!” Zuko’s own hands are smoking now. “You had no right to scare her like that, I don’t care what you think of her training or my parenting decisions.”

“Both of which leave something to be desired.” Azula leans against the wall again, always cool in the face of his anger. “It’s kind of funny. It’s almost like you’re more afraid of fire than she is.” 

“Because I know better.” His left hand twitches, tempted to reach up and feel the rough skin of his cheek. 

“No, you don’t.” She saunters forward, that snake-like expression on her face that used to send chills down his spine. The effect is dulled by her loose, lightly brushed hair, bare feet, and plain clothes, but it’s not completely ineffective. “You’re not really afraid of fire.” 

She extends two fingers towards him and he catches her hand without hesitating, quelling the heat without breaking her gaze. 

She smirks. “You’re afraid of _power_.” 

“I am not!”

She pulls her hand away and makes a show of checking her nails, kept short and blunt these days. “ _Her_ power. Power you could only dream of.”

“That’s not true!” How does she always do it? Disarm him like this? Make him feel angry and irrational again, on the edge of doing something rash. 

“It is, and you know it,” she says calmly, taking her seat on the sofa again. “You’re afraid it’ll corrupt her. Afraid she’ll end up like me.”

Zuko’s hands close into fists, because that’s something he can’t deny. Leave it to Azula to plainly state fears he’s held for years but hardly dares to think. 

She sighs, twirling a strand of hair around her fingers. “It’s only because I care, you know. Don’t let your fear spread to her. _That’s_ what’ll actually weaken her– or as you put it, ‘corrupt’ her.”

With great effort, Zuko swallows down every angry, irrational retort and grips the back of the sofa across from her. “You are _never_ seeing Izumi again.”

Azula just laughs. “Come on, Zuzu. We both know that isn’t true.”

“Not while I have anything to say about it.”

“It won’t be your choice to make.” She smirks. “Eventually, she’ll want to spend time with someone like her. She’ll need it.”

He chooses not to dignify that with a response and turns on his heel, returning to the hallway where Izumi is waiting. 

She tears herself free of her guards as soon as she sees him and throws her arms around his waist. 

He holds her close, stroking her hair with one hand and hoping she can’t feel his racing pulse. “I’m sorry, Izumi, I’m so sorry,” he says, desperately hoping she can tell how much he means it. “I know Azula can be scary but you handled it so, so well, and she never meant to hurt you at all, I promise.”

“It’s okay,” she says into his shirt. “I’m glad you’re okay, too.”

He almost huffs a laugh, surprised. “Of course I’m okay.” He kneels down so he can get a better look at her face. “You never have to see her again, if you don’t want to. You know that, right?”

She nods, but only looks at the floor and scrubs her eyes instead of answering. 

Zuko stands up and rubs her shoulders. “Let’s just go home, okay? We don’t have to talk about it anymore.”

She nods again, but looking up this time with a firmer set to her mouth.

He takes her hand and they walk back to the carriage together. 

It’s a very quiet ride home. 

* * *

It’s summer on Ember Island, but Zuko still makes tea in the morning before making his way to the courtyard. Izumi is already awake and warming up for practice, even though this is technically a vacation. 

It’s been a difficult year. Political tensions are high in the Earth Kingdom as Kuei’s government once again clashes with Omashu’s High Council, and bender-non-bender conflicts in the United Republic have meant he’s spent more collective weeks on Druk or an airship than he has in his own nation, which has in turn caused a certain amount of discord among his own council due to the lack of leadership (or a common enemy). After three stress-induced migraines in one month, Mai (and Ursa and Katara) convinced him to take some time off, and Uncle returned to the Capital temporarily to help Mai manage things while he was gone. 

To everyone’s mild surprise, Izumi jumped at the chance to accompany him to Ember Island. She cited the fact that she’d missed him so much this year, but Zuko knows better. Izumi’s thirteen now, and he suspects her reasons for the trip have more to do with the fact that Soru’s family also vacations on the island for most of the summer. 

Not that they haven’t spent time together this week attending plays (and viciously critiquing them afterwards) and hiking through the dense forest near the center of the island, but most afternoons and evenings Izumi disappears to spend time with her friends and Zuko finds himself alone. 

He doesn’t mind. It’s a little sad, perhaps, that his little girl is growing up, but sad in a _good_ way. Despite all the ways she’s restricted by her status as royalty, he and Mai try to give her as much freedom as they can without compromising her safety, so she can grow up as “normally” as possible. He’s glad she has friends her own age, she’s invited to parties and can attend without making an utter fool of herself. 

“Aren’t you supposed to go to Meruki’s this evening?” he’d said last week when they sat down for dinner. 

“Yeah,” she said through a mouthful of noodles. “But it doesn’t start until sundown and it’s not cool to show up early.”

Izumi didn’t even leave the house until forty-five minutes after the sun had set, at which point Zuko allowed himself to laugh out loud at the way he and Azula had interacted with other teenagers when they were young. 

He still has to hide a smile in his teacup at the memory. 

Izumi frowns, completing one last set of lunges. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he says. “Carry on.”

She rolls her eyes and begins her katas. 

Zuko controls his expression and relaxes against a pillar to watch. It’s the same courtyard where he and Aang trained just before the comet, although what she’s doing is much more complicated than what he taught Aang at the time. Some aspects are more complicated than what he could do himself at that age. He picks out three moves he didn’t master until his twenties. 

The baby fat is finally melting from her cheeks and he has to admit Tom-Tom is right. Her face will be too narrow to really resemble Mai. Her sleeves ride up at her wrists– she’s growing out of her clothes again. He hides another smile. She’s going to be tall. Her limbs are long and sure as she steps through her routine without any hesitation. 

She’s feeling good, he can tell. Relaxed. Confident. There had been a slight hiccup in her training after she met Azula, but she made up for it quickly. If anything, the visit made her more cautious in a healthy way, a little less eager, a little more controlled. 

Her bursts of fire grow hotter as she makes her way through the last set, so hot that Zuko feels a warm breeze through his hair from across the yard. He nods and gives her an open smile when she catches his eye. She knows he’s not evaluating her– as he’s told her many times by now. He’s just happy that she’s enjoying herself. 

Her last jump ends in a tuck and roll and she comes up to her knees, both palms held out in a concentrated blast. 

The initial flame is so hot it’s almost white and Zuko has to squint and look away. When he can focus again, he almost drops his teacup as the flames cool into a brilliant, familiar blue. 

Izumi’s eyes widen with his, and the stream stops prematurely as her hands drop to the flagstones, breathing hard. She stands up to catch her breath, eyes fixed on the place where her fireblast had been. After a few minutes, she closes her eyes with her hands clasped in front of her in a pose meant to recenter herself. When she opens them, she takes a few steps back and turns around, then fires another, much smaller blast. 

Still blue. 

Zuko watches her fire a few more, a part of him hoping the color will fade back to orange, but it doesn’t and eventually she gives up, going still in the middle of the courtyard. She looks up at him, her eyes filled with questions he doesn’t have the answers to. 

He’s beginning to regret some of his disdain for fire sages now, and wishes he’d listened more when they talked about the expansion of chi paths and the evolution of one’s inner flame. He almost wishes he’d been there when Azula’s fire turned blue, if only so he would know if this was how it happened. 

But he’d been as surprised as Uncle that day on Azula’s ship when she’d tried to take them back to his father in chains. Neither of them had ever seen anything like it, and didn’t think they were likely to see it from anyone else. 

Uncle had always been wary of the change. Zuko would never say it out loud, but he suspects the blue fire is at least part of the reason Uncle has always been more hesitant to believe in the possibility Azula could truly recover. Even today, Zuko can admit there’s something alien about it, something frightening. 

What was it Azula said? _Power you could only dream of_. 

He will never know what it’s like to wield that kind of energy, and neither will Uncle. Maybe that’s where the suspicion comes from. The fear of the unknown. 

Izumi’s still looking up at him, with that lost expression on her face, and Zuko belatedly remembers he has to push his fear aside. 

Hands tight around his teacup to keep from shaking, he sets it down on the rail and meets her in the center of the courtyard. He isn’t quite sure what to say, so he starts by hugging her, pulling her into a tight embrace he hopes says _it’s okay_. _You’re safe. I don’t look at you any differently_. 

“I don’t know how it happened,” she says, voice muffled in his robes. “It’s like I unlocked something inside of me and I can’t put it back.”

“It’s alright,” he says, stroking her hair. “I understand.” 

“Really?” She pulls back a bit to look up at him, hopeful. 

“I think so,” he says, although he’s never been less sure of anything. “It’s… a part of you. And now that you’ve found it no one would ask you to deny it.” 

Her arms drop from around him, but she still looks anxious. “Azula was right, wasn’t she? I am more like her.”

“Izumi, no.” Zuko tries to gather her in his arms again but she steps back. “You know you’re very different from Azula.”

“For now.” She paces a few steps away. “Who knows what I’ll be like in three years? Or ten?”

“You’ll still be you,” he says, trying to follow her. “You’re so much more than your firebending–”

She rounds on him. “Stop it, you always say that! Like I’m supposed to minimize that part of myself or something. Well guess what? I _like_ being a firebender, Dad, and I’m proud of it. I _was_ proud of it, anyway.”

Zuko stills. Is that what she’s thought all these years? That he didn’t want her to be proud of who she was? “Izumi…”

As if to test it again, she makes a small blue flame in the palm of her hands, then crushes it in her fist. “Agni, what are people going to say?”

“It doesn’t matter what people say.”

“Of course it does!” Her hands come up to her temples. “I’m supposed to be the Firelord one day! People have to like me, they have to think I’m–”

Zuko waits, although he thinks he knows what she’s trying to say. “They will,” he says gently. “They know you.”

“Azula was the Firelord once, wasn’t she?” 

“For a little while,” he says. 

“Long enough that some of the staff are still terrified of her,” she says. “I heard some of the captains talking once. They said she banished everyone in a day and commanded her advisors to fight an agni kai.” 

“…That’s true,” he says slowly. 

“ _Ugh_.” She buries her face in her hands. 

He reaches out for her. “But trust me–“

“Why?” She looks up at him and glares. “You’re afraid too, I saw it in your face.” 

“Izumi, I–“ 

“Don’t touch me!”

He stops and holds up his hands. “Okay, but if you’ll just listen–“

“No! Don’t act all nice like you understand! You’ll never understand!”

Before he can stop her, she turns and runs inside. Zuko smacks his forehead. _Idiot_. 

He considers trying to follow her but quickly thinks better of it. He should get his own head on straight before trying to talk to her.

Not for the first time, he wishes someone had warned him that teenagers were almost as bad as his council when they don’t get a break for lunch. Although the more he thinks about it, maybe Uncle had tried to warn him. Either way, she wasn’t _completely_ wrong. His face burns as he wonders if she really doesn’t think he’s proud of her for being a firebender. Of course he’s proud! He’s just… afraid. And she’d been able to see that, too.

He retreats back into the house and paces the length of his room, trying to imagine what Mai would say. _What are you afraid of, Zuko?_

_I’m afraid she’ll use firebending to define her self-worth_. 

_Why are you afraid of that?_

_Because that’s what happened to me. And–_ “I don’t want to be like my father.” The words come out strangled, and Zuko collapses onto the bed, rubbing his eyes and wondering if that particular fear is ever going to go away. He still remembers the first time he felt it, so visceral it was almost like physical pain, before Izumi was even conceived, when she was barely an idea in their heads. 

It was almost enough to put him off the idea of having kids at all, until Mai said, “Don’t let him take this away from you, too.”

So he pushed the fear aside, convinced himself it would fade eventually. 

His left hand lingers on his face, and it occurs to him that Izumi’s the same age he was when Ozai burned and disowned him. 

He shudders at the idea someone could do that to their own child and reminds himself (again) that he’s _not_ like his father, and that Ozai has been dead for almost a year.

There was no celebration, no fanfare. Zuko made sure of it. That man deserved to die alone, in obscurity, and disappear without anyone remarking the difference. But he did see the body before it was cremated, the first time he’d laid eyes on his father in over ten years. His mother and Uncle were there as well, looking on with stony expressions identical to his own, while Azula wept and huddled in her chair, refusing to be comforted. 

She’d experienced another setback in her recovery, and he hasn’t seen her since a month or so after that. He tells himself it’s because he’s been busy, when more truthfully it’s because he doesn’t know what to do. How does he help his sister mourn the death of someone he despised, and despised him back? How does he explain to her how sorry he feels that for so long she thought Ozai was the only person who loved her? 

Izumi disappears for the rest of the day, for which Zuko is almost grateful if only because it takes him about that amount of time to pull himself out of the spiral of worry about Azula. After burning a third incomplete draft of a letter to her group home, he realizes it’s dusk and he should really make sure his daughter is okay, even if she doesn’t want to talk to him. 

A few pointed questions to the staff to point him in the direction of her personal guards, and he learns she’s gone down to the beach, and has been there for hours. In the last of the daylight, he can see her from the top of the stairs leading down. She’s up to her waist in the water facing the open ocean, standing very still. The breeze blowing in from the water is cool tonight, and Zuko feels chilled in long sleeves and pants. 

After a few deep breaths to warm himself, he descends the stairs to the beach, where he’s grateful to see that Izumi’s guards, although not currently in sight, have laid out a towel and change of clothes on a rock, both untouched. 

“Izumi!” he calls from the edge of the water. “Aren’t you cold?”

“I’m fine,” she says without turning around. 

His eyesight, particularly on the left, is not very good in the dark these days, but she isn’t very far out, and he creeps forward until the waves lick his boots. “I can see you shivering. Come back and warm up.”

“No.”

The muscles in his jaw tighten in frustration, but he forces them to relax, keeps his voice gentle, neutral. “Izumi, please. I know what you’re trying to do. Come back and let’s talk about it. You don’t– you don’t have to warm up.”

She turns halfway around in surprise, golden eyes catching the light of the torches lining the stairs up to the house. 

Zuko can tell she’s been crying. Bracing himself for the chill, he takes off his boots and wades in after her. “Or we could talk out here,” he says as he struggles to find his breath of fire, one hand outstretched. “But to be honest the beach looks a lot more comfortable.” 

Slowly, she takes his hand and allows him to lead her back to the sand. Despite his promise, he throws the towel over her shoulders immediately, because there’s only so long he can watch her shiver, then closes his eyes to concentrate on generating enough heat in his legs to make steam rise from his shirt and pants. 

“How did you know?” she says, hunched on the ground with the towel pulled tight around her. “How did you know what I was doing?”

He almost wants to laugh, and indeed his next exhale can almost be called a chuckle, a faint wisp of fire sneaking out from between his lips. “I’m sure Uncle Sokka has told you about the time I once spent in a cooler.” 

One side of her mouth almost twitches up. “Yeah.”

“So,” he says. “Did it work? Can you still firebend?”

She lets out a long breath, a flicker of blue between her teeth. “Yes.”

Zuko realizes she’s already stopped shivering and the towel is hardly wet, nearly all the water driven away. “Uncle Iroh would be proud.”

She ducks her face into her knees. “No he wouldn’t.”

“He _would_.” Taking a risk, Zuko sits down next to her and puts an arm around her shoulders. “You know he would.”

She shakes her head, whispering, “What if he calls me crazy? What if he thinks there’s something wrong with me?”

His hand tightens on her arm. “He wouldn’t. Uncle would _never_ think something like that.”

She nods like she’s trying to believe him. “But there must be something wrong with me,” she says. “This isn’t normal.”

Zuko bites his lip, because she’s right. It isn’t. “Izumi, I promise there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“How do _you_ know?”

“I just do.” 

“I’m never going to firebend again,” she says, lower lip shaking as she fixes her gaze on the water. 

He sighs. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It’s true!” She pouts, folding her arms and pulling away from him. “I won’t turn out like Azula.”

“That’s right, you won’t,” he says firmly, as much for himself as for her. He remembers something Jeong Jeong liked to say. “Look, it’s true that the gift of firebending can be a burden, too. We have the ability to hold our element within us, so failure to control it can have serious consequences.” He pauses. “It took me a long time to appreciate that.”

Izumi’s silent for a long few minutes, her eyes trained on the waves, but he can tell she’s listening. “How long?” 

“Let’s just say I was older than you are when I learned the true nature of firebending.”

“Hm.” She rests her chin on her knees, right hand tracing patterns in the sand. “Who finally taught you? Uncle Iroh?”

“No.” He smiles, an idea forming in his head. “The original firebending masters.”

She frowns. “What does that mean?”

Slowly, Zuko stands up, brushing the sand from his legs. “It’s sort of a figure of speech. You can meet them too, if you want.”

“Really?” She looks skeptical, but he takes this as a step in the right direction. 

“Really.” He holds out a hand to help her up. “Right now we should both get some sleep, but we can leave on Druk in the morning if you’re up for it.” 

“Okay.” Her expression remains sullen, but she takes his hand and follows him back up to the house. 

“I just have to teach you one more form before we go,” he says. “No firebending required, just the movements.”

“Alright,” she says. “What’s it called?”

“The Dancing Dragon.” 

They leave Ember Island just after sunrise, and Druk is faster than Appa, so Zuko spots the Sun Warriors’ city beneath the clouds in the late afternoon. Someone rings a gong as soon as they’re spotted, and Ham Ghao greets them outside the main temple. 

Zuko bows, noting the new headdress. “You’ve been promoted.” 

“Observant as always,” he says dryly. 

Behind him, Izumi raises her eyebrows at the lack of a formal title, and Ham Ghao looks sharply at her. “And who’s this?” 

“My daughter.” Zuko puts a hand on her shoulder. “Izumi.”

“Wonderful,” Ham Ghao drawls. “There’s more of you.”

Izumi frowns and opens her mouth to say something, defend him probably and piss off the Sun Warrior chief even more, but Zuko clears his throat. “She’s ready to see the Masters.”

“That so?”

“Yes,” he says. “And I’d like to go with her.”

Ham Ghao snorts. “You’ve already faced them. That’s cheating.”

Zuko’s hand tightens on Izumi’s shoulder. “Come on. For old times’ sake.” He thinks about it. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll agree that I could probably use a refresher course.” 

Finally, a thin-lipped grin reaches Ham Ghao’s face. “I have no doubt that’s true.” He turns sharply and begins leading them up the stairs. “Izumi, you must learn the way of the Sun from the Masters, Ran and Shao. When you present yourself to them, they’ll read your hearts, your souls, your ancestry.” 

Izumi stumbles on one of the steps and Zuko catches her elbow. 

“If they deem you worthy, they’ll teach you. If they don’t, you’ll be destroyed.” Ham Ghao throws a glance at Zuko over his shoulder. “Sure you want to risk it a second time? That was a near miss some twenty-odd years ago, wasn’t it?”

Izumi looks worried, and Zuko gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m sure.”

They reach the top of the stairs and the altar holding the Eternal Flame. 

“This fire was the very first one given to man by the dragons,” Ham Ghao says. “You must each present a piece of it to the Masters.” He reaches in and draws flames into each of his hands. 

Zuko bows and receives his first, then waits for Izumi. 

She bows as well, but is slow to hold out her hands, slow enough that Ham Ghao smirks. “I thought you said she was ready.”

Izumi falters and Zuko glares. “She is.” He puts his free hand on her back. “Go on,” he says. “It’ll be okay.”

She reaches out and takes the flame from Ham Ghao. 

Zuko can tell she’s trying to hold back her chi, but in her hands the flame grows hotter until it burns as blue as it did back on Ember Island. 

Zuko glares preemptively at Ham Ghao, daring him to say something, but he barely blinks before pointing up the mountain. “The cave of the Masters is beneath that rock.” 

If Zuko had any (admittedly irrational) fears about Izumi’s ability to climb the relatively steep slope to the base of the Masters’ cave while holding a flame in one hand, they are quickly put to rest when he found himself working to keep up with her. He remembers, rather belatedly, that Aang had made the same trek while younger than her and a much worse firebender, then thanks Agni that Sokka’s not here to watch him struggle to keep pace with a thirteen year old. One more joke about how he must be past his prime, or that Firelord-ing is making him soft and he swears he’ll–

“Dad, look! We’re almost there.” 

Izumi bounds over the last few rocks to the square where the Sun Warriors have already gathered. 

(Some day Zuko’s going to learn how they do that. An underground network of tunnels? Some sort of animal they mount and ride through the forest up the other side of the hill?) 

“Facing the judgment of the Firebending Masters is very dangerous,” says Ham Ghao. “Last chance to turn back.” 

Izumi looks back at him. 

“It’s up to you,” he says. 

She sets her jaw and squares her shoulders. “I’m ready.” 

Ham Ghao spreads his arms. “Chanters!” 

The warriors begin to beat their drums and chant, kowtowing in that synchronized, alternating pattern Zuko remembers from so long ago. It gives him flashbacks so vivid he almost feels sixteen again, still new to being “good” and wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into– on a quest with the Avatar for the original source of all firebending. 

When they reach the top, he hears the sound of the horn that sends his ears ringing and flocks of birds flying from the cliffside, and he and Izumi bow, their flames extended. 

A rumble echoes from the cave, shaking the stones beneath their feet, and Zuko’s heart is pounding. In the deep, sudden silence, all his fears rise to the front of his mind. What if the dragons don’t find Izumi worthy after all? What if they change their minds about _him_? 

He wonders if this was such a good idea after all, and wishes Mai had been with them on Ember Island. Or Uncle. Or _someone_ who would’ve done a better job at making Izumi feel better, and talked him out of this crazy idea to bring his daughter to meet the Sun Warriors, of all people. Who already hated the Fire Nation proper, and the Royal Family especially. Sure, he had Druk now and that had to count for something but still, what in Agni’s name was he _thinking_ –?

He looks up and realizes it’s too late. Yellow eyes stare back at him from the pitch darkness, and that’s all the warning he gets before the red dragon surges out of the cave towards him. Vaguely, he realizes that Izumi must be seeing the blue dragon, which feels appropriate somehow. 

Just like the first time, the dragons begin circling the bridge in their odd pattern. 

Zuko tilts his head to tell Izumi it’s time to do the Dancing Dragon, but before he can she says, “They want us to do the form with them, don’t they?”

He smiles and feels his doubt begin to melt away. “Got it in one.” 

They let their flames go out and assume the first stance, then step through the form just like they practiced before they left Ember Island. Of course, Izumi hadn’t needed much time to memorize it, and over his shoulder Zuko watches her move in perfect sync with the blue dragon. 

By the time they finish and stand back to back, staring back at the huge faces before them, Zuko feels no fear, although he can feel Izumi shaking behind him. He finds her hand and holds it as the dragons lower their hind legs to the earth and plant their claws on the platform. Unlike last time, he doesn’t flinch when they open their mouths to release a column of fire around them. His hair catches in the warm wind, and tears come to his eyes as he remembers. 

_He remembers_. 

Ham Ghao was right– he did need to see it again. Over twenty years as firelord and thirteen as a father, so much had snuck in and clouded his mind. So much fear, so much anxiety over who he was– as a father and as a ruler. Fear that he’d be a failure his people and his family. Fear he wasn’t strong enough. He didn’t have enough control. 

As he gazes up into the bright, multicolored vortex, he feels a sense of peace return to his inner flame he almost forgot could be peaceful. _I’m a firebender_ , he remembers. _And I am worthy_. 

Behind him, Izumi gazes up into the fire with tears in her eyes as well. He knows she’s looking at all the colors, and she reaches out as if to touch it. 

He hears her voice over the rushing wind, “I understand.”

Eventually, the fire dissipates and the dragons retreat into their caves with a rush of air and a rumble of the earth, and he and Izumi begin their descent down the stairs. 

Izumi is crying now, but they’re happy tears, and she holds a small blue flame close to her chest, as if it really is a heartbeat. “I understand,” she says again. “I understand everything.”

“I’m glad.” The words are far from sufficient– he can’t articulate how happy it makes him to see Izumi so happy to be firebending again. 

“This fire,” she says. “It’s a gift. And it’s not destruction, or madness. It’s energy and life.” 

His eyes are still fixed on the blue flame in her hand. He never thought he’d associate such a thing with happiness, or joy, but now he can’t imagine anything different. 

“I think I’d like to see Aunt Azula again,” she says when they’re almost at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Really?” Yesterday, it would’ve been a wild thing to ask– a crazy, dangerous idea. But right now Zuko feels calm, and it seems perfectly reasonable. 

“Yes.” She looks back at the little blue fire. “I think I’d like to teach her The Dancing Dragon.”

Something terribly like _hope_ wells in Zuko’s chest and he thinks he might cry too. He settles for wrapping one arm tightly around her shoulders. “I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.” 

**Author's Note:**

> The end :) 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed :D 
> 
> As always, find me on tumblr at [cats-and-metersticks](https://cats-and-metersticks.tumblr.com/)


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